


As Fate Would Have

by KnightLight (marshmell0w)



Category: Final Fantasy Tactics
Genre: Character Study, Drabble Collection, Gen, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-07 14:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmell0w/pseuds/KnightLight
Summary: Here are stories told of people who have met only once, many times, or never will otherwise in the grand scheme of things.Drabbles mostly. Varies from mere conversation to perhaps hints of pairing. We'll see, eh?FEEL FREE TO MAKE SUGGESTIONS IN THE COMMENTS <3





	1. The Princess & The Cadet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CorsetJinx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/gifts).



"Forgive me, my lady..." the young man apologizes slowly as if in a daze. In a sense, he is--this whole meeting feels more unto a feverish dream than the reality set before them. "I was clumsy a-and..." His tawny eyes fail to meet the gaze of who he's speaking to out of slight shame and mostly reverence. The petite smile gracing her lips is far too patient and easy with one such as him; but as he lingers on it he draws a peculiar warmth. With a sigh he eventually stoops to pick up his books, and she follows suit to his surprise. Her dress and cloak make rich red and soft cream folds upon the dull grey cobblestones. "Your grace, I--" his throat catches as she hands him a book or two of his with that same smile. 

"Required reading?" her voice is soft but carries clear to his ear. "You're a cadet then, yes?" He noticed there was quite a bit of sadness to her voice, though the source of it was unknown to him. He nodded in response, at a loss for words. How does one speak to a figure entrenched in tales and whispers? "I find fiction to be much more interesting a read than sword techniques but perhaps that is because..." she paused, looking up at him. "Do you find it odd that I like to read?" She asks rather briskly and sudden and the question takes him aback. 

"I... no. I do not think it odd, your grace." he replied earnestly. Her smile widened considerably and he could not help but feel a small but intense bloom of satisfaction in his chest. It led to his own smile, guarded though it may be. And they grinned at each other as they both picked up another book strewn upon the street, a faded tome on the legend of the Zodiac Braves. "Ah-- this old book... I shouldn't have dropped it..." he bemoaned as though he had intentionally thrown the book from his person. She chuckled and shook her head gently.

"Do not blame yourself..! I was foolish to be daydreaming in the midst of a town anyways." he was more than puzzled at why she would blame herself but did not question it. He was raised not to argue with his betters in any case. "Sometimes I wish..." she sighed, as she scooped up another book. She seemed to consider her words for a moment and somehow jumped right back where she had left the discussion. "I wish I were not a princess." She said with a quiet sigh. The young man quickly deduced that this was something she pondered often. "Though I suppose I wouldn't be able to be such an avid reader were I not-- that is one way to look upon it!"

"Indeed." He replied simply, unable to shake the feeling that this was all nothing but a mere dream. "And you and I might not have met... right?" She smiled widely again, and nodded. "Thank you for your assis--" he paused.

She suddenly let go of the book, leaving only his grip upon the book. Gracefully she rose from the street, the smile beginning to settle back into a more poised frown. "I do believe someone is catching up to me..." She bit her lip in frustration at having to cut this meeting short. "I suppose this means farewell, ser..." She looked down at him regrettably with her soft robin's egg eyes. They looked so frail, peering from elegant locks of gold hair that were both cascading down her back and braided at the sides. 

"S-ser Thadalfus, your grace." He said, throat suddenly dry.

"Farewell Ser Thadalfus. Perhaps we shall meet again?" the princess flashed a small smile at him. "Then maybe we can discuss the merits of reading a little more!" And with that, she was gone as soon as he had bumped into her.


	2. The Soldier & The Girl

A twinge of regret struck the Corpse Brigadier but it was a bit too late for that-- as he dragged the shivering girl in his grasp to the fort where he'd have a last stand with the remnants of the Brigade. "Come now... don't be difficult." He muttered to her softly. She was mostly silent but he could hear her sniffling and attempting to repress the tears-- and that's where the main source of his guilt was from. He was a freedom fighter, not a bandit ransoming young ladies for money or glory. "Tis only a short while longer. Then they'll come for you-- and me..." Gragoroth admitted grimly with a sigh. He tried to keep going but the girl stopped surprisingly firm in her tracks, watery brown eyes gazing at him. 

"Why did you take me..?" She turned to face him as best as his grip on her would allow. Now Gragoroth could see the tears streaming down her face, and the quivering of her lower lip. "Your commander told y..." she looked down at the ground, suddenly losing the courage to speak to the older man. After a moment of utter silence he tentatively kept walking to test if she was still digging her feet into the ground, and she began shuffling along slowly. She muttered something in a soft, breaking whisper that Gragoroth barely heard, but the words weighed heavy in his mind. 

_"I'm so scared..."_

They barely made it to the fort before Gragoroth noticed how... barren it was. Where were the rest of their men, as Wiegraf had spoken? Had they too been slaughtered before he had arrived? Gragoroth barely had a moment to contemplate before he heard the tell-tale signs of someone marching towards them. "Damn!" he hissed, yanking the girl with him as he ran up the snowy incline to a wooden stand where he knew there was an ample supply of powder-- enough to blow apart the whole fortress and every unlucky bastard still standing around with it. He barely made it to near where the door to the powder store was before Northern Sky troops approached, led by Lord Zalbaag himself.

Now Gragoroth was scared as well-- and desperate. Quickly he unsheathed his sword and drew it up uncomfortably close to the girl's neck and chest, just as more Northern Sky dogs arrived from the shadow of the fort. He heard her whimper, but did not remove the proximity of his blade. "Back whence you came! Quick as shadows, or this one's blood makes crimson snow! Do not think to try my patience! This keep packs such a store of powder as you could scarce imagine! More than enough to deliver the lot of you to the Father's keeping, should your feet lack proper haste!" he cried out, taking another step backwards to the door. 

\-------------

"Gods have mercy..." Gragoroth uttered in soft horror and confusion. He knew they would shoot at him-- a known criminal. But... to shoot an innocent girl? He glanced up at the boy responsible, noting his cold gaze and the twisted smirk of satisfaction growing upon his lips. A tool of the nobility, he had no doubt. Gragoroth hadn't even known the poor lass's name... but this man likely did. Gragoroth stepped back as she fell down silently, dark hair and faded purple dress crumpling atop her.


	3. The Faithful & The Faithless

Oft times he could hardly fathom the youngest male Beoulve; Mustadio was not sure what to expect of the man's baby sister. Aside from being incredibly determined at whatever they set their minds to-- both were, despite the current circumstances, still quite strong in their religious beliefs. It left the mechanist quite curious as to why a man that had uncovered demons in a church could still pray to it. And such a curiosity could only be sated by asking questions, which is just what Mustadio intended to do. He was originally going to ask Ramza but he seemed rather busy at the moment and so that left Alma to question. Mustadio knew she was a sharp young woman for her age and was both eager and nervous to speak to her. They had not talked much before this either...

He sidled up to young Alma as she knelt praying. Her expression was one of peace and deep thought-- Mustadio almost felt guilty disturbing her concentration. Still, he needed answers... why did the two of them believe in a church that they had both seen to be corrupt? Mustadio himself had never placed much stock in the church to begin with and his distrust only deepened at the revelation that Cardinal Delacroix had sent Baert and his thugs after him and his father. To say nothing of the Lucavi...

"You are praying in a moment such as this?" Mustadio meant for his voice to be gentler but it got Alma's attention all the same. She seemed to tense up slightly as her breath froze for a moment, before exhaling and relaxing. "Of course, these are trying times we live in..." the machinist added, trying to soften the impact of his words. Alma smiled and stood up, barely coming to Mustadio's work-worn shoulders. "F-forgive me for--" he began, before Alma shook her head and interrupted what he was going to say.

Her eyes seemed to gleam in a devious nature as she spoke. "Is there a better moment to pray, ser?" She folded her arms behind her back and looked up at Mustadio now with a look of keen appraisal. The youngest Beoulve gave him a cheeky but gentle smile. "Well now... I have heard among the others that you are..." She paused for effect and Mustadio was all too aware of it. There was most certainly a effervescent air surrounding Ramza's sister-- especially comparative to Ramza himself and his currently persistent gloom. "...well... that you are faithless." Alma finished, still smiling up at Mustadio.

Mustadio nodded; the girl really was as sharp as her brother. "Aye. I do not understand-- we have all seen the church for what it really is, what with the Lucavi demons..." he trailed off, losing his train of thought. "Well I just do not see the point in believing upon a corrupt church filled to the brim with unholy beings!" He said with some small amount of fervor in his tone. He placed a hand on his forehead, as if either to nurse a headache or to gaze out to the horizon. "...And I was piqued to know how you and your brother could manage." Mustadio's voice faltered slightly. He knew faith was of utmost importance to many other Ivalicians and was a little anxious for Alma's reaction to his words.

"I pray not to the physical embodiment of the church but rather the spiritual one, ser." Alma's smile became even more warm, if that were possible. "I also pray for this horrible divide in our country to end, for Princess Ovelia, for all of you to come back safely..." Her gaze drifted upward sadly, a half-lidded stare that told much Mustadio did not quite understand. "...and I pray for Delita to find peace." Mustadio recognized the name-- if only because Ramza had mentioned it with much of the same sadness (if not more so) that Alma's voice held now. "I can say with certainty that Ramza prays for much the same if not more.." 

The machinist rubbed the back of his neck, nodding slightly. "I... I believe I understand better now... you and your brother's faith transcends the physical barriers of this world, young Alma." He was not sure what to make of Alma and Ramza's belief in the seemingly intangible. If it gave the two siblings strength however... Mustadio did not believe faith to be an evil that needed to be abolished. He was merely curious about the nature of two heretics praying-- and his curiosity had been sated. Momentarily at least-- there was sure to be another mystery waiting for him.


End file.
